Into The Fire (Gorgeous Entourage #1)

by E. L. Todd

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven? We’re good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sweet,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

  I didn’t know what possessed me to do it but I decided to do something reckless and stupid. “Come over for dinner tonight.”

  “What?” he asked. “Seriously?”

  I wasn’t thinking. I just blurted it out like an idiot. Why did I even think it at all? But now that I said it, I couldn’t take it back. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Free food? Hell yeah. Beautiful woman cooking in slutty lingerie? Fuck yeah.”

  “Whoa…who said anything about slutty lingerie?”

  “Dammit,” he said into the phone. “I was hoping you’d just go along with it.”

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “You’re an escort, aren’t you?”

  He did not just go there. Just when I thought he was sweet and sensitive, he said something to piss me off. I slammed the phone down and hung up on him. I was too angry to yell—which meant I was really pissed.

  Shelly looked up from her computer. “That was abrupt.”

  “He pissed me off.”

  “You just invited him to dinner. What could he have possibly said?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  The phone rang and we both stared at it.

  Shelly shrugged awkwardly. “I have to get that…”

  I wish I could pull the cord from the wall.

  “Beautiful Entourage,” she said when she answered. “Yeah, she’s right here…” She looked to me for direction.

  “Tell him I’m busy and not to call back,” I ordered.

  “Uh…” Shelly repeated everything into the phone. “Okay.” She hung up.

  That went over better than I expected. I didn’t want to argue with him in the office while Shelly listened to every word we said.

  “For what it’s worth, he did seem sorry.”

  I was particularly sensitive when it came to this subject. I wasn’t a call girl or a prostitute. I was an actress more than anything else. I told him how ashamed I was for stripping, so he knew perfectly well this was difficult for me to deal with.

  Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to go through my paperwork and wait around for any phone calls I might receive. I had a few clients to juggle and I never knew when they might need me.

  ***

  “Alessandra!” Ash burst through the door, sweaty and out of breath. His eyes landed on Shelly and he immediately marched to her with a mission in his eyes. “Where is she? I need to speak to her.”

  “Uh, right here.” I was at the desk right next to her. I guess he was too upset to really look around.

  “Good.” He dashed to me and forgot about Shelly altogether. “I’m sorry about what I said. It was a joke. I swear.”

  I was still too irritated to forgive him.

  “I thought you knew I was joking around. I’m sorry I took it too far.” Sincerity shined in his eyes, and his hands formed into fists like he wanted to punch himself in the chest. “I apologize.” He stared at me with hope written all over his face. “I apologized,” he repeated.

  “And that automatically means I should forgive you?” I asked incredulously.

  “Well, I am sorry. So yes, you should forgive me. Isn’t that how this works?” He pointed at me then himself with a confused look on his face. “I never apologize for anything unless I really mean it. You should know that about me.”

  “Awe…” Shelly sighed as she watched us.

  I turned to her. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry.” She grabbed her purse and walked out of the office.

  “I take it back, okay?” Ash pressed forward just the way he did when he insisted on walking me home.

  It was clear his comment wasn’t malicious so I dropped the attitude. “I forgive you.”

  His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thank you. I have a problem when it comes to stuff like this. I say stupid shit and it gets me in trouble. By the time I realize what I’ve done, it’s too late.”

  “Just watch it next time.”

  “I will.” He stood in front of my desk and moved his hands to his pockets. Now that I accepted his apology, he didn’t know what else to say. He even seemed awkward. He wore jeans with a hole near the pocket and a t-shirt, like always. “So…can I still come over for dinner?”

  “Is that all you care about?” I asked. “The free food?”

  “Actually, I care more about the beautiful woman cooking it—not wearing lingerie.”

  He was such a smooth talker. I tried not to smile but it was hopeless. “Where did you come from?”

  “I was born in Connecticut.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I meant ten minutes ago. Were you at home?”

  “No. I was at work.”

  “You just left work at the drop of a hat?”

  “It’s pretty laid back there. My client canceled their appointment so I wasn’t skipping out on anything.”

  “Well, you didn’t need to stop by.”

  “I would have called but you told me not to.”

  “I was just mad.”

  He shifted his weight. “You want me to bring anything?”

  “Just yourself.”

  “Cool,” he said. “No flowers or something?”

  “Why would you bring flowers?”

  He shrugged. “Isn’t that a custom?”

  “When you’re going on a date.”

  “Oh, okay.” He snapped his fingers. “Gotcha. I guess I’ll see you then.”

  “Yeah.”

  He headed to the door. “Since I know where you live, can I just have your number? I feel ridiculous calling you at the office all the time.”

  “We’ll see…”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be there at seven unless specified otherwise.”

  ***

  There was a knock on the door at seven sharp.

  I was finishing everything in the kitchen so I called out. “It’s open.”

  Ash walked inside, an arrangement of flowers in his hand. “Dude, I could have been a serial killer and you just let me walk inside? You won’t let me walk you home but you’re chill over this?”

  “I knew you were coming.” I turned off the oven.

  “What does that matter? I still could have been a weirdo.” He walked around the kitchen table and approached me, the sunflowers in hand. “I got you these.”

  I eyed them in his hand and felt my stomach tie up in knots. I’d been given flowers before but it didn’t mean as much. “What are these for?”

  “Well, two reasons…” He held up one finger. “I was a dick to you earlier today so I thought this would make up for it.” He held up a second finger. “I was hoping I could get your number if I were sweet enough.”

  “Whatever the reason, they’re beautiful. I love sunflowers.”

  “I think they’re really cool. They’re big and bright and not cliché like roses.”

  I grabbed a vase from under the sink and placed the flowers inside. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “So…can I have that number?”

  “Why do you want it so bad?” I filled the vase with water then set it on the table. “You can call me at the office whenever you want.”

  “I don’t always feel like talking on the phone so I want to be able to text you. Come on, give it to me.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous way.

  “Is that supposed to convince me?”

  He shrugged. “Works on everyone else.”

  No, your good looks works on everyone else. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Man, you’re such a tease. I let you sleep over and you won’t even give me that?”

  “I’ll give it to you if you can guess it.”

  “Are you crazy?” he asked. “That’ll take me three hundred years.”

  “Three hundreds years?” I ask
ed. “That’s oddly specific…”

  “You would put an end to this conversation if you just handed it over.”

  I pointed at the table. “Sit down.”

  He remained standing.

  “Do you want dinner or not?”

  That got him in the chair. “What are we having?”

  “Filet mignon, brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes.”

  He rubbed his palms together greedily. “Fuck yes.”

  I served the plates then sat across from him.

  “Shit, this looks good.” He shoved a brussel sprout into his mouth. “Even the green balls are good.” He practically inhaled his food, stuffing as much as possible into his mouth to where he could barely chew. “You’re a good cook.”

  “I didn’t catch that.” I’d only taken a few bites in the amount of time he managed to eat half his plate.

  He chewed for a full minute before he swallowed. “I said you’re a good cook.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I should have got better flowers.” He cut into his steak and took a big bite.

  “They’re perfect.” I stared at them on the kitchen table. They brought life into the apartment.

  “So…does it start with a seven?”

  What was he talking about? “Sorry?”

  “Your number.”

  “You’re really going to guess it?”

  “You aren’t giving me a choice,” he said. “So, does it start with a seven?”

  “No.”

  “Does it start with a six?”

  “Nope.”

  “Damn, this is going to take me forever.”

  “So quit while you’re ahead.”

  He set his fork down and stopped eating. “You know, I have a few buddies in homeland security. All I’d have to do is call in a favor and I’d have your digits.”

  “Then why don’t you do that?” I was calling his bluff.

  “Maybe I will.” He took a bite of his potatoes.

  “Fine. Go ahead.”

  His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Dammit, just tell me.”

  “Why don’t you ask your friends?” I sipped my wine.

  “Because that would be a total breach of privacy. I’d rather just get it from you.”

  “How thoughtful…”

  “You’re such a tease.”

  “I’m not a tease,” I argued. “I told you from the beginning I didn’t give out my number. It’s not my fault you thought you would be an exception to that. You told me not to expect you to change. Well, don’t expect me to change.”

  “And that would be fine if I didn’t know you were full of shit. I’m sitting in your apartment and eating your cooking as we speak. Come on, you clearly trust me.”

  He had a point. I’d never had a client in my apartment before. I’d never even told them what side of town I lived on. “Did you ever think that maybe I’m the serial killer and I’m just trying to get my clients to trust me?” I gave him a meaningful look and kept eating.

  “You? A murderer?” he asked incredulously. “I’d like to see you try and take me down. You shouldn’t have picked a veteran to tango with. Even without my gun, I could kill you instantly.”

  This dinner took a turn for the worst. “This is fun…”

  “Sorry, I get a little hung up on stuff like that.”

  “I can tell.” I sipped my wine and watched him across the table. His brown hair was a little long, which explained the light curling. His blue eyes were brighter than usual, and his fair skin was unusually clear. The ruggedness existed in his hands. They were calloused and dry from constant use. A man this attractive should be illegal. At six three, he was all man. His arms were the size of footballs, and his thighs were thick and powerful. Maybe I was just eager because I’d been going through a dry spell, but I would love to find out why Ash was so cocky.

  “How was work?” I asked.

  “Fine. Some eighteen-year-old kid came in on his birthday and asked me to mark YOLO on his arm.” He rolled his eyes. “I kicked him out and told him to get a life.”

  “What’s wrong with YOLO?”

  “Everyone is doing it. Do you really want a tattoo that everyone else has? I didn’t think so.” He wiped his plate clean then rested his hand against his stomach. “Shit, that was good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tony never appreciated my cooking. He scarfed it down then immediately watched TV on the couch. It was nice to hear thanks for a change.

  “You ever think about getting some ink?”

  “It’s crossed my mind.”

  He rested his elbows on the table as he watched me eat. “You’d look hot with some sleeves—all black.” He nodded his head enthusiastically. “I’d take you on this table right now.”

  Even though I knew he was joking, it still got my motor running. That hard chest would feel so good against mine, and I wondered what the fuss was about with his piercing. I wouldn’t mind trying it out. “I was thinking more in a place you can’t see…like my hip or something.”

  “Why?” he blurted. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “In my line of work, I can’t have tattoos visible.”

  “But that’s lame,” he said. “You should be able to do whatever you want.”

  “You think your parents would like me if I had a falcon on my forearm?”

  He shrugged. “I see your point. But I think you should do it anyway.”

  “Would you hook me up?”

  He grinned from ear-to-ear. “It’d be my pleasure. I’d make you my personal canvas. That virgin skin would be gone.” He somehow made even that sexy. “Do you have any piercings?”

  “My ears.” I tucked my hair behind my ear so he could see the diamonds.

  “That doesn’t count,” he said. “That’s pussy shit. Toddlers get those pierced. I meant your clit or something.”

  This conversation became too heated for me to keep eating. “What’s the purpose of that? Decoration?”

  He tried not to laugh. “Are you a virgin or something?”

  “No,” I snapped. “I’m twenty-five years old. How could you possibly think that?”

  “Then your sex life must be super boring.”

  “No…” Actually, it kind of was. Sex with Tony was decent. I’d finish maybe once every ten times. But some positions would bore me to tears because they didn’t give me any stimulation whatsoever.

  “I’ll explain, sweetheart—“

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Well, I can’t call you by your real name,” he argued. “It’s too sexy.”

  “It’s not that sexy,” I argued.

  “I like to say a girl’s name in bed, and every time I say your name, that’s all I think about. So, if you don’t want me to picture myself fucking you, then you don’t want me to say your name.” He said all of this without any embarrassment.

  I squeezed my thighs together.

  “As I was saying…clit piercings are good for stimulation. It makes girls come faster and more often. I was with this one girl who would come if I just blew on it. Even when we did the reverse cowgirl, she’d come so hard she cried. But then again, it sounded like her old boyfriend didn’t know her pussy from her ass so I think I might have had something to do with that.”

  I didn’t like picturing him with other women. I had no idea why.

  “So, you should consider it. You touch yourself, right?”

  “Huh?” I blurted it out without thinking.

  “You have a vibrator or something?”

  This was the last thing I expected us to talk about tonight. It didn’t necessarily make me uncomfortable, but talking about sex with Ash made me warm, and not in a good way. I felt like my attraction to him was on display. “That’s a personal question…”

  “What?” he asked. “We’re friends. I tell you stuff.”

  “But I don’t ask about it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Chill, woman. Sex isn’t a big deal. People should talk about it mor
e often. Anyway, it makes masturbation more fun, at least that’s what I hear. You should look into it.” He winked at me. “I wouldn’t mind doing it for you.”

  “It’s not really my thing…”

  “What is your thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sexually,” he asked. “Is there something weird you’re into?”

  “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

  He rolled his eyes again. “Fine. Miss Prissy can’t handle an adult conversation.”

  “It’s not that…”

  “Then what is it?” He stared at me from across the table, looking like my ideal fantasy. I wished he weren’t my client. I’d give anything to meet him in a bar just so I could have a night with him. The last time I had sex was with Tony and that was four months ago.

  God, that was embarrassing.

  “I guess I’m not that experienced or adventurous when it comes to sex.”

  He listened without reacting.

  “My ex…he wasn’t amazing in bed. But then again, I’ve never had an amazing partner.”

  “Did he make you come every time?”

  “Maybe once in a while…”

  He shook his head. “What a loser.”

  “I hear people talk about how amazing sex is, but honestly, I haven’t had that kind of experience that makes my toes curl. The times I do orgasm, I almost can’t believe it happened at all.”

  He covered his face and groaned. “I’d shoot myself if I were a girl. If someone expected me to have sex with them over and over, they better make me come. And women should hold themselves to the same standard.”

  “But I think it’s just me—”

  “No. The guy is just lazy and doesn’t want to take the time to figure out how to make you come. Lame shit.”

  I sipped my wine because I didn’t know what else to do. My thighs were pressed hard together.

  “Let me be of service to you.”

  I almost choked on my wine and spit it back out. “What?”

  “Let me pierce it for you. You’ll come a lot more often.”

  “Oh…” I relaxed when I understood his meaning.

  “What did you think I meant?”

  “Nothing.” I tried to shake it off.

  Suspicion came into his eyes then realization set in. “I wouldn’t mind pleasing you for the night. I can show you what sex is supposed to feel like. I’ll make you scream so loud a notice of eviction will be on your door the next morning.”